


солдат

by Luce_cm



Series: In Your Heartbeat Universe [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I hate myself thank you so much for reading this monstrosity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Soulmates, Sister-Sister Relationship, Torture, aftermath of Major Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luce_cm/pseuds/Luce_cm
Summary: What happened after the nightmares come to life.(Continuation/PoV swap/spin-off of In Your Heartbeat, you'll probably need it to understand this).





	солдат

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also, this may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Just an FYI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saying sorry doesn’t work if I just continue to make characters suffer, does it? Jesus, okay. I kinda liked writing this chapter, even though it hurt like a bitch. But, like I said, I like testing the characters, and yeah, idk.
> 
> I had fun writing Bucky, even if it was to torture him. It let me explore (aside from his character, that I hope I did justice) the other side of soulmates in this universe. I feel like shit about making him suffer though, really.
> 
> Also, there’s like a tiny mention of the reader not being able to speak Romanian. If you are one of the 19million natives, I am so sorry, but also hi! I love your country, I am visiting soon and I’m HYPED! (Also, the mountain mentioned is Tampa, because I love it’s history and also it’s so fucking pretty I wanna cry)

His eyes are closed, and some part of him vaguely registers that soft wind with a hint of pinewood ruffles around him, making him feel lighter than he has in years.

“Guess you were right, Brasov was worth the trouble.” You whisper suddenly, but strangely enough, your voice doesn’t startle him. Your arms wrap around his waist and he feels the soft press of your lips on the center of his back.

It is with a soft smile that he answers, eyes still closed, “And by trouble you mean…”

“That you are the only one that can speak Romanian, love.”

He hums in fake consideration of your words as he turns in your arms, Your face finding a home on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, his hands roaming over your back as you huddle close to protect yourself from the cold wind of the mountain.

“Talked to ‘Tasha already?” He murmurs, feeling you nod against his skin. After a few minutes that seem like small pockets of eternity, you pull away from his embrace a little, the ghost of your touch tracing over Bucky’s cheeks, right under his still closed eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna open those eyes for me, handsome?” You tease, but for some reason dread settles in Bucky’s stomach, like some sort of foreboding knowledge that this is somehow the beginning of the end. He thinks he shakes his head in response, but you don’t give any indication that you paid any attention to his answer, and there’s urgency in your voice when you try again, “Bucky?”

Something in him almost crumbles at the apparent pain and uncertainty in your voice, but he cannot bring himself to open his eyes.

“I-I can’t, doll, I…”

“Hey, hey,” You soothe quickly, letting him feel the warmth of your touch when you take a hold of his face between your small, gentle hands. “At ease, soldier,” You laugh, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, you press your lips to his. A simple, carefree move on your part that never fails to make his whole world brighter, if only for just an instant or two.

Since that first time he even saw you, he has marveled at the way you seem to move so sure of the fact that your next step will land on solid ground, even when you are amidst a world of crumbling fields.

You part from him, but your sweet and short breaths still graze his hungry lips, achingly close and far at the same time. He isn’t ready yet to let go, doesn’t think will ever be ready to if he is honest; but you don’t seem to want to step away just yet, so Bucky presses his forehead to yours and takes a deep breath.

He feels your skin give under his fingers, and it is as if some dormant, scared part of him finally snaps in place, reassured because you are here. With a deep breath, unsure of why he is so hesitant to do so, like some hidden, quietened part of him is screaming at him to keep this safe; he opens his eyes.

Your bright smile greets his uncertain gaze,

“There you are.”

You are here, and you are real, and God, you want him, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend you can love him too.

Bucky doesn’t even know why he feels the sudden urge to take you in, to hold you close and keep you safe from this unseen danger that lurks in the back of his mind.

His answering chuckle is watery and broken, but you don’t mention it and he is too busy embracing the relief that for some reason overwhelms him to ponder on it for too long.

Your E/C eyes meet his, as if you too refuse to let go of the faint and brief connection. Your smile turns a little sad when you press a soft kiss against his lips, and whisper against them,

“You have to wake up, soldier.”

Bucky frowns, even as dread settles in his stomach.

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You repeat, but he knows it’s a lie this time.

It dawns on him, and for some reason the unrelenting nightmare of his bullet piercing your heart on that desert comes back to haunt him.

It’s the way you hadn’t reacted at first, not feeling the pain just yet, not realizing you had been shot just then; like a numb denial settling over you. Bucky understands it better than anyone now, because in this moment there’s too something jagged and animal inside of him that holds on with all its might to peace, to life, while they both fall through his fingers like quicksand, even as a part of him longs to stop time, to stop it all: pain, reality, life, death.

He is shaking his head, but he feels himself pulling away, he feels this reality giving way to the nightmare, he feels you vanish.

“Please…” He croaks out, but his eyes are already open by that time.

The old and caving wooden ceiling of the cabin greets his tired gaze, forcing him to realize that almost seven months ago, when you two had visited the small mountain-side house in Brasov, the place had seemed pristine, with well-kept walls and light pouring in from the big windows, keeping the house warm even in the windy weather.

Now, though, he can’t seem to hide form the shadows with the voices of ghosts, he can’t shake off the cold that took over his bones so long ago.

He feels ashamed, but there’s still a part of him that would welcome the terrifying zap of his Handler’s machine, the agonizing way the memories were pried off his mind. There’s a part of him, however shameful, that bitterly and brokenly wants to ask destiny why was it that the Soldat is the one committing the sins while he lives with the guilt, but the Soldat can’t be the one with the awareness of your death without him having to live with the heartache, with the absence.

When he rolls to the side, his heart hopefully and yet wrongly hoping for the relief of you being there, of a proof that it actually was a nightmare; he feels the same crushing weight he feels every morning since you were truly gone set over his chest.

Because that’s the thing of living without what the universe deemed to be his other half, Bucky ponders, and it is something that goes beyond this squelching feeling, like someone just ripped off a part of him when he felt you go, the pain in his heart like it’s being forced to keep on beating against it’s on will, despite  the loss of this essential part; it’s beyond that pain, and it is about the absence carved into him since you are gone. It’s about the everyday without you.

After the initial pain, after Bucky woke up in a hospital bed with a haggard looking Steve at his side, after the initial numbness wore off and he had to understand it wasn’t a nightmare; the sharp pain is gone, and was more like this dawning feeling, like he didn’t know this world anymore, like he couldn’t, and still can’t, understand how the world goes on with this pulsating absence somewhere deep inside of him, like a lost connection where he is still left waiting for you to speak, because that same part of him that feels the absence, refuses to live on a world without you in it.

He vaguely remembers a conversation with Steve, or rather hearing Steve talk to him.

_He knows if he reaches out, if he stays in this present too long, of he puts his feet on the ground; that he is going to be bound here, that this is going to be real, that this is going to be agony._

_So he doesn’t. He lets Steve speak, eats when he asks him too, sleeps when he asks him too, and goes on with the soft orders of his best friend, trying to ignore the dull pain in his chest at seeing Stevie so torn about not being able to help him._

_But he can’t let himself feel that pain, because if he does, it will all come back._

_And if it all comes back, if it all feels real, then he won’t wake up. And Bucky can’t wait to wake up._

_“I’m going to have you hooked to an IV if you keep this up.”_

_Bucky realizes he should react, that Steve wants him to. He would react, he can’t stand doctors. He will probably wake up when he feels the needle though, so he says nothing._

_His best friend sighs, “Buck, I…I don’t know what to do,” Steve runs a hand over his face, and Bucky thinks he wasn’t meant to hear his next words, “Maybe because nothing can make this better.”_

It took him weeks to realize he wasn’t going to wake up, to come back and be forced to put his feet on the ground.

_Natalia is sitting next to him, thinner than he ever saw her, a new darkness lurking behind her eyes._

_She expects something from him, he knows. So, he gives the only answer he can. His explanation, his denial, his hopelessness._

_“Y/N is gone.”_

In a weak moment before he left the compound, maybe in what was the last drop that made him decide to leave, he asked Steve if it ever got better.

_“I still expect to see my Peggy when I go see her, I know she still…I know she sometimes sees a life we did not have when she closes her eyes. I…”_

_Steve takes a deep breath, the broken soldier breaking past the shields, the masks, of Captain America._

_“You’ll never stop hoping, when you roll over in the morning, that she’s there, telling you it is all a nightmare. You will never stop hoping, Buck. I am sorry.”_

_“But we survive despite it.” Bucky states, wondering distantly if he should worry how resigned he sounds._

_Steve’s answering chuckle is as hopeless as he feels, “They never gave us a choice not to.”_

He left for Brasov the next morning. It was probably one of the only, and definitely the last place he remembers being…feeling like maybe it was safe being happy, for once.

Your laugh seems to taunt him and have him chasing ghosts, your scent deluding his mind into believing you are there, your absence accompanying him like the most faithful companion.

And now, with the devastating and wonderful gift of hindsight, he curses all those times he hesitated before reaching out for you, all those times your lips curved up in a smile and he held back from tasting the smile on his own lips, all those times he decided to sit back and respond with only a chuckle of his own when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around you and feel the calming beat of your heartbeat against his own.

___

A knock on his door takes him away from his poor attempt at fixing the malfunctioning heater in the main room.

He walks carefully to the door, the back of his mind telling him he should worry about his safety, considering this was supposed to be an undisclosed location, but by the time the thought has set the door is already open and he is face to face with Natalia for the first time in what feels like not long enough.

“Natalia.” The word leaves his lips on a scratchy gasp, making him wonder when was the last time he talked. Or drank water.

“I know you do not want to see me, but I need your help.” She states. Quickly, professionally. Even as her green eyes take him in with concern, even as the softness that she found when you were at their side still guides her steps.

“Is Steve…?”

“Steve is alright.”

“What is it, then?” He tries not to make it sound as harsh as it does, but something about having her in front of him makes him skittish.

“I…found Karpov,” She clenches her eyes shut, probably at what she sees written on his expression, “I know what you are going to say. Trust me, I do, but…”

He states simply, interrupting her, “You want him dead.”

“I want him _suffering_ ,” She corrects in a hiss, seeming to tower over him when she straightens her back with all her might, looking him dead in the eye and continuing, “I want his blood. And I need your help, Bucky.

Regarding the redhead for a second, he finally gives in and moves from the door, motioning silently for her to come in. She does, pacing a few feet away from him.

Bucky waits patiently until she speaks,

“He is holed up in Siberia. Has called for some Hydra officials -the few remaining, anyway- to meet him there. I don’t know what is going on, but…this is our only chance.” Her last words are whispered, almost manic.

“It will not bring her back, Natalia.”

“Neither will letting yourself die, Barnes,” She flinches at her own words, he almost wants to tell her it didn’t hurt, but she is speaking again, the girl with big eyes and a fire in her soul that Hydra tried to extinguish so long ago in that distant facility in Belarus, looking up at him, “Sorry. I need to do this. Please.”

___

She finishes laying her plan of attack and detailing the intel gathered on the facility and the movement of men within it.

“It’s dangerous.” He states simply, but she shrugs in response. It makes him want to remember the careless way you regarded your own safety too, the way you would have shrugged the same way, smiled his way and told him he was too old to worry that much.

“I know.”

“We may not come back.”

“I know.” _I don’t’ care._

Bucky takes a deep breath, and finally gives his answer, “Even if we do, you are not going to see me again, Natalia,” She tries questioning his meaning, but he explains quickly, simply, “I am leaving.”

Natalia stands up, walking to him but stopping with a light grimace when he takes a few unconscious steps back, “Where? W-Why?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I can’t stay still, I can’t…” A deep breath, and then, “Your soulmate is dead, aren’t they?”

“You know he is.” She answers, curt, stiff.

“Then you…you have to understand. It’s as if…as if an absence was _carved_ into me, and it feels like…”

“Like you don’t know this world anymore,” She says, voice and eyes tearful, “Like losing a lit match in the midst of the darkness, like feeling the cold creeping over again.”

Bucky swallows, “I have to leave, Natalia.”

There’s a moment of silence, a quiet understanding in the heavy shoulders of the Black Widow. He moves to the back room where he kept the weapons and tactical gear he brought in, but Natalia calls out to him,

“For what is worth, I am sorry.”

He knows she is talking about her hunt for his blood, her attempts to keep her sister away from him. Maybe she believes she stole time from the two of you when trying to keep you safe, but he is certain it is what kept you alive for so long, being away from him, being unaware of his existence.

And a part of him wants to tell her she should have ended him when she had the chance, she should have let his blood stain her hands instead of his sins reaching you.

“You shouldn’t be,” Is all he answers. And after a beat, “And I am sorry too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. M.Miller


End file.
